


To Be With You

by zadonis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Diary/Journal, F/M, POV Alternating, ghost - Freeform, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zadonis/pseuds/zadonis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's a wanderer. Between home and the Laundromat, the library, and the park. Her world's a confusing and a scary place at the time. Then she spots him, and everything changes. There's an undeniable connection that she just can't shake, so she follows through with it until it's unexpected revelation.<br/>--<br/>Inspired by <a href="http://funeralfaerie.tumblr.com/post/74364184344">this</a> Tumblr post</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Black Outs

—-  
 **And when you’re standing here in front of me  
** **That’s when I know that God does exist**  
 **'Cause He will have answered every single prayer**  
 **To be with you, just to be with you**  
—-

Dear Diary,

I am alone and I am scared. There is a darkness around me that doesn’t change whether my eyes are opened or closed. The darkness scares me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

That’s a recurring dream for me, a nightmare, really. I wish I didn’t have to suffer through it night after night, but I do.  
*

Dear Diary,

Today I was in the Laundromat. I don’t remember how I got in there, but I was sitting there, watching the people walk around and doing their laundry as if no one was watching. Every now and then I would hear someone singing along to the radio, watch them smile or laugh, and soon they’d be on their way. I didn’t mind just sitting in there. There’s something calming about that place. I’m not sure how long I was in there for, but a boy came in after a little while.

He was good to look at even though he had shadows under his caramel-colored eyes and his brownish hair was all messy, but I sort of have a feeling that’s just how he styles it, his jaw was stubbly, and the corners of his lips turned down. Something about the way he looked made me want to go over and give him a huge hug. Something else stopped me and told me that was a terrible idea. I know that that tiny voice was right. How would he have reacted had a random girl just walked up and hugged him? My guess is not very well.

It intrigued me the way he moved. His muscles shifting underneath his light t-shirt as he loaded and unloaded his machine. There was something familiar about the way he moved, something that filled me with a sense of unexplainable nostalgia. I caught him singing along to the radio, too, but his eyes looked dull, there was no joy in them as he mumbled the words to a song I’d never heard. He had tattoos on his arms and I wanted to get closer, but like I said before, something was holding me back.

He left not too much later, a bag of clean laundry thrown over his shoulder. He pushed a pair of sunglasses on and stepped back outside, ducking his head.

*

Dear Diary,

It’s been a week. I was at the Laundromat again, sitting there watching a woman’s red sock stain all of her clothes pink. I would’ve told her, but she’d disappeared by the time that I noticed and she didn’t come back until it was too late. She gathered her things up and left in a hurry, leaving me bored for the next few hours.

I’m not sure why I didn’t leave. Maybe it’s because I had the feeling in the back of my mind that he was going to come in again. And he did.

The bell over the door chimed and my head nearly snapped off my neck. His bag was smaller this week, the shadows under his eyes just a little bit darker, and I noticed a new tattoo peaking out of the low neck of his tank top in addition to the three or four tattoos he already had.

Behind him the clock on the wall read 3:12 pm, Saturday. He only hummed today, his eyes darting around the place every now and then, but he never really looked my way which sort of made me sad. I didn’t wait for him to finish his clothes. I went to the park and walked around for a while, tracing the paths that I normally walked on. And then I went home.

*

Dear Diary,

I’ve come to realize that the boy only goes to the Laundromat at 3:00 on Saturday. Every Saturday. I promise I’m not stalking him. I just always seem to be there. I don’t even mean to; it’s like I just show up there.

I’m starting to get worried though. It’s been a few weeks since I first saw him and since then I’ve been having gaps in my memory I guess. I don’t remember how I get to some places. For example, the other day when I woke up, I remember getting out of bed and out to the kitchen, but the next thing I knew I was at the library.

It’s starting to scare me. What if there’s something wrong with me?

*

Dear Diary,

Finally, I’ve seen him when he wasn’t handling his laundry. I was in the park when I saw him kicking a ball around with some of his friends. He seemed a lot happier there than he ever did while cleaning his clothes. Well, I guess a Laundromat isn’t exactly a fun place to be.

I’ll admit that I sat down on a nearby bench with the pure intention of watching him. I swear, I’m not meaning any of this to be creepy, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he twisted his body around to kick the ball to one of his mates. Nothing brought me out of it until there was a loud howling sound to my left and then suddenly a dog was growling and barking, tugging its owner on the leash in my general direction.

As a cat-lover, I reeled backwards from the dog, my breathing picking up until the man holding the other end of the leash yanked on it, “Oslo, you idiot. Stop it.” He pulled backwards once again, causing the dog to whimper and fall back to the man’s side, tail tucked between its legs.

It was terrifying and I’m surprised the man didn’t apologize for his animal’s behavior. Then again, he did seem rather rude.

*

Dear Diary,

Today the boy brought someone with him to the Laundromat.

A little girl with her blonde hair up in piggy tails, her lips tinged pink from the lollipop in her fist. She was laughing with him and he looked happy, but the underlying current of sadness was still there. She was giggling the whole time from her perch on the machine beside the one he was dumping his clothes into; he would reach over to tickle her every now and then, his eyes warming at the shrieks she made.

“Thank you, Luxy.” He said after she offered him a lick of her lollipop. “It’s yummy.” She smiled brightly, popping it back into her own mouth and then he kissed her on the cheek, leaving a sugary residue behind.

It was absolutely adorable and I laughed to myself, but the little girl turned to look my way, her eyes going wide and then she smiled before turning back to him, whispering something I couldn’t hear. He turned to look at her with almost surprise in his eyes; his gaze flickered past her to look right at me. For approximately one second and then he turned back to her, shaking his head.

His phone rang a minute later and he answered it. “Yeah, hey. Nope, it’s Liam watches Lux day. Yeah, Lou. I’ll have her back soon. Relax, we’re just doing laundry. Yeah, see you soon. Bye.”

Liam.

Liam. That’s his name. A lovely name. Strong.

*

Dear Diary,

The blackout gaps in my memory are growing worse I fear. Something’s definitely wrong with me. All I can remember is writing in this book, this tiny book when I’m tucked away in a corner of the library, and the moments when I see Liam. It’s weird and I want to cry. I never go back to the apartment anymore and I don’t know why. I tried to call the doctor’s office, but the call went straight to an answering machine.

I’m scared.

*

Dear Diary,

The second he walked into the store today, I smiled and his name settled onto my tongue like a bird, ready to lift off and take flight. He greeted the woman behind the countertop, who was watching him with her dark eyes and I frowned at her, but she took no notice of me. She never does.

Come to think of it, almost no one does. I guess I should try speaking more. But the only word that has wanted to leave my tongue in the past seven days is his name. Liam. LiamLiamLiamLiam.

“Liam.” I whispered, so softly my own ears barely heard it.

A bang sounded from a dozen feet away and I looked up from my hands to see him standing totally still, his hands still lifted in the air as if to hold up the top of the machine that had slammed shut. His eyes were wide and he looked around, avoiding my corner of the shop completely. Was I really that invisible?

*

Dear Diary,

I’m tired. If anything, I feel these missing chunks of my days should be reviving me, not draining me. Somehow I work my way through the days, wandering around town, through the park, dropping by the Laundromat (I should probably be concerned that I spend so much time there), and sometimes I just sit in a corner of the library.

I’ve been seeing more of Liam. His eyes are burnt into my mind. Every last detail of them. Which is strange since I’ve never seen him that up close before.

*

Dear Diary,

I really despise this lapse in time that my brain is causing. Still I’ve been unable to find help. I’ve gone into the hospital, but just the sight of the place made my skin crawl, so when people kept pushing in front of me as I tried to get the nurse behind the desk’s attention, I just left.

I’ve given up hope on fixing this. Maybe one day, I’ll just forget everything. Sleep forever. That doesn’t sound too bad, now does it?

*

Dear Diary,

Liam brought one of his friends into the Laundromat this time. A tall boy with curly hair, and green eyes. His arms were covered in tattoos too. They both looked sad. The other boy leaned against the wall, watching Liam wash his clothes. “Mate, why do you still come here?” He asked and folded his arms across his chest and his eyes flickering around, sliding right over me with a frown.

“I like it here. I always have.” Liam said defensively, but his voice caught in his throat on the word ‘always.’

The tall boy shook his head, looking down at his boot-clad feet. “This can’t be healthy. It’s only been two months, Liam. You need more time.” He stepped forward to put his hand on Liam’s shoulder. I nearly felt the weight on mine.

Liam suddenly pushed him back. “I need to get my laundry done, Styles! I don’t have anyone to do it for me anymore. I don’t care if this is where she worked! I don’t care if this is where it happened, Harry! I just –“ His voice vanished and suddenly Harry had his arms wrapped around Liam. Strong Liam who had just cracked before my eyes.

My heart twinged painfully and I turned away for the first time, busying myself with the hamper of abandoned clothes to my right. Muffled cries echoed behind me.

It was 3:23 pm and a beautiful boy was crying a few feet away.

“You need to stop doing this to yourself, Li. You cleared out her apartment already. She’s gone. She’s buried. I’m sorry, but being in this place isn’t going to help you anymore.” Harry’s voice seemed hoarse with his words and my blood was rushing through my veins, heart pumping harder for Liam who had apparently lost someone recently.

I looked back over my shoulder to see them standing eye to eye, Liam’s cheeks wet and eyes pink. “I know. I know, but I can’t help it. Every time I’m here I just – This place almost makes me feel better; it makes me feel like she’s still here with me. I know it’s crazy sounding, but I miss her.” His lip trembled and Harry sighed, wrapping his arms around him again.

I sniffled, holding in the tears. I wanted to hold him now more than ever before.

*

Dear Diary,

I followed him today after he left the Laundromat. I swear to you, I’m not stalking him. There’s a buried deep connection between us and I can’t help but want to be with him.

Alright, I sound like a stalker, but I’m not. Really.

He went to the grocery store and then the florist, carrying a bouquet of pink camellia flowers out with him. I’d been waiting outside the store, leaning against the wall in the shadows and he paid no mind to me as he walked by again, weaving his way through the crowded sidewalk.

I easily made my way after him, never losing sight of him, but keeping several people between us. I have to say, I’d be a good spy. Maybe that’s what I should do in the future. Save people, countries, the world. I’d get to dress in tight black outfits too.

When he finally stopped, I realized we were standing outside of a cemetery. He was talking to the man who stood guard at the closed gates. “We’re closed for the night, son. Come back tomorrow morning.”

“Please,” Liam begged. “The sun’s not yet set. Please. I’ll be really, really fast. I swear.” The guard sighed, but nodded, pulling out the key to open the gate and let Liam inside, then he walked into his little guard house, telling Liam he had twenty minutes. I thought about leaving then, going home. Obviously this was a private thing for him; I didn’t want to invade on his moment.

After twelve toiling seconds, I slipped in through the gate, following not only Liam’s shadow, but a strange gravity that tugged on my heartstrings. It was odd being there so late in the evening. No one else in sight. By the time I caught up, shadows were growing and I found that I could easily blend in with the shadows under a tree a few feet away from the grave where he’d stopped.

He was kneeling in front of the headstone, his laundry bag, groceries, and the bouquet of flowers resting on the ground beside him. His lips were moving, but I couldn’t make out any words. Finally he picked up the flowers, moving them to lean against the headstone.

“I miss you. A lot. Harry tells me that it’s been two months and it’s time that I start getting over you, but I don’t think I can. I love you still. I hope you love me too.” My heart was throbbing painfully in my chest and when I saw a few tears slip down his face, only for him to sniffle and wipe it off, my heart wrenched for him and I longed to just walk over there and touch his cheek, let him know that there was someone that cared for him.

I stayed hidden. “I brought you that slice of pie that you asked for. I’m sorry that you never got to eat it.” The grocery bag crinkled loudly as he extracted the container holding one slice of chocolate pie. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry love. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.” And he broke down in tears.

He left a few minutes later, taking his laundry and now-empty grocery bag with him. I stayed behind.

When he was long gone, I finally stood up from my spot in the dewy grass, taking soft steps over towards that one headstone which now seemed as if there was a spotlight shining upon it. As I rounded it to see the name, careful to avoid the flowers and the pie, I took a deep breath. I wondered what had happened to his girlfriend that had made him so sorry. I wondered how she died and I wondered where she was now.

I looked down at the letters carved into the shiny granite headstone.

The last light of day shone perfectly against them, illuminating the letters. Isobelle Althouse.

My name.

* 

Dear Diary,

I think I’m a ghost.

*

——-

**Please give me some feedback and let me know what you thought about it if you’ve even read this far :)**


	2. Missing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobelle thinks she’s going crazy. There are blank spots in her memory and the only constant is this beautiful boy that keeps appearing in the Laundromat. After following him around a bit, she discovers something about both him and herself that she never expected. A whole new world unfolds in front of her and she has to learn how to cope with it’s limitations. 
> 
> ((this story is written in alternating points of view. first chapter is her pov, the second is his, and back and forth like that for the rest of the story))

—-

_The dreams you left behind you didn’t need them_  
 _Like every single wish we ever made_  
 _I wish that I could wake up with amnesia_  
 _And forget about the stupid little things_  
 _Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you_  
 _And the memories I never can escape_  
 _'Cause I'm not fine at all_

—- 

**Liam’s POV**

Ever since the accident, I haven’t felt right. My girlfriend was dead, how would I ever feel right again? Harry wasn’t the only one of the boys to try and make me move on; all of them had at some point or another. Everyone knew it was a hard time for me, so why they were trying to make me completely forget about her, I didn’t understand. The worst part was that I was going to propose to her the night that it happened.

I guess it just wasn’t fate.

The first time I went back to the Laundromat was three weeks after it happened. I’m not sure why I went, there was just some voice in the back of my mind, whispering the crazy words “Go back Go back Go back.” I had plenty of clothes that needed to be cleaned considering I’d barely left the house in three weeks. I didn’t have her to do them for me anymore.

When I walked in, the hair on the back of my neck stood up straight. Mia was behind the cash register as normal, and when she saw that it was me, she smiled and tried to catch my eye, but I looked away. I knew I looked awful. My hair was a mess, the shadows under my eyes could hide demons, and I just felt like hell.  


There were two or three other people in there, but I ignored all of them, moving over to my usual machine.

Its presence was driving me insane. The spot. I didn’t look at it as if that would make it stop existing, but it was like I could feel it watching me. I didn’t stay long. Even with the enormous load of clothes, I got done quickly, singing along to the radio quietly in an attempt to keep out all of my memories of this place. When I was done, I ducked my head and put on my sunglasses, knowing that there were probably paparazzi out looking for me. They all wanted the story of how Popstar Payne was dealing with the death of his girlfriend.

I didn’t want to give it to any of them.

*

A week later I went back again. I had accumulated a pile or two of dirty clothes since the previous Saturday. Even though I was trying to get back out and doing things again, I was never tired. I couldn’t sleep knowing that I was moving on with my life and she was gone; all of the dreams I’d had about a future with her were wishes on blown-away dandelion seeds.

Zayn had taken me to go get a tattoo, telling me that I should get one to commemorate Isobelle, even though she’d never really liked my tattoos. Or at least that’s what she’d always told me, but from time to time, I’d caught her tracing them when we were lying in bed. So I left that shop with a tattoo of a sailboat on my collarbone.

On those late nights when we would stay up talking, Issy used to press kisses to that exact spot and we’d talk about our dreams and aspirations and pasts and everything. “I want to see the world. With you, Liam.” She’d told me once and I’d encouraged her and told her we could do that someday. That someday had come and gone, but I would never forget it.

I thought about her nonstop that time while I did my laundry. I hummed to the songs on the radio, letting the memories flood into me, my eyes flickering around the small shop to the spots where those memories had happened.

I barely finished the load of clothes before I had to leave or explode with emotions.

*

A few weeks passed, and every Saturday I would go and wash my clothes there. Mia tried to strike up conversations with me every now and then, but I honestly didn’t want to talk to her. Issy had never liked her much and I always got the vibe that she had a crush on me, so I tried to keep my distance.

Isobelle’s family came into town for the first time since the funeral. “It’s time we cleared out her apartment, don’t you think?” Her dad told me, his hand falling heavy on my shoulder. I was choked up just seeing her parents and sister and brother. “We miss her too, Liam.” Her sister hugged me tight and I dropped my stony façade, letting myself cry with her.

A week later, her apartment was completely devoid of furniture, either shipped home to her parents’ house, or sold to a shop in the city. I found her diary one day while I was sorting through her room, trying not to remember the moments we’d shared in there. The tiny journal was tucked under the edge of her mattress where she’d tried to hide it. I’d found it multiple times before.

Selfishly, I hid it from her family, wanting to keep it for my own. I took it home and after they said their final goodbyes to me, I cracked it open, reading the first two or three pages of her handwriting, dating all the way back to the day we first met, but I stopped after she talked about knowing it was love on our third date. I couldn’t take hearing her voice so clearly in my head.

*

The boys and my other friends tried to get me out of my house as much as possible. They took me to clubs and bars and parties, but I couldn’t deal with those and usually left early. Louis and Harry tried getting me to come over to write for the new album, but I knew that every lyric I wrote would just be depressing or about her or both. Finally, there was a day when Andy and a couple of our other friends invited me to play football with them in the park.

I acceded only because it was Andy and I had been avoiding him since the accident. Andy and Issy had been decent friends; he was the one that introduced us. He’d reminded me of her too much, but I needed to see him; he was probably one of the only ones that could cheer me up.

It worked. The concentration in the game truly took my mind off of Issy for the first time in months. I actually smiled and laughed and joked around with everyone.

Not until late in the day, when the clouds were growing thicker, did my mood finally diminish. I’d moved off to the sidelines to sip from my water bottle when I heard a dog going mental a short distance away. I looked over to see the dog snarling and yapping at a bench, a squirrel sprinted away from the seat, but the dog stayed fixated on the bench. The owner was jerking backwards on the dog’s lead, commanding it to stop being an idiot.

Something about that changed my mood, maybe it was the dog’s ferocity or the fact that Is had never been a dog-lover. Every time that we would go visit Loki and Brit at my sister’s she’d always been a bit wary around them.

I went home soon after that, telling Andy that I had a headache as an excuse to just get away.

*

When Lou went out of town for the week with Tom, she left Lux with Harry’s sister Gemma. Gemma had plans almost every day though, so she often passed Luxy off to Harry, Louis, Zayn, or me. Lou never trusted Niall to be alone with Lux for fear that he’d corrupt her language or eating habits. Or somehow endanger her.

On the next Saturday, Lux was with me, so I took her to the Laundromat and gave her a lollipop to keep her happy. She didn’t mind spending time with me. Lou had once told me that Lux probably had a crush on me from the way that she talked about me once I’d left. Despite that crush, she’d loved Isobelle dearly, often clinging to her when they were in the same building.

I had an extra-large amount of dirty clothes for some reason, so it was taking me extra time and I knew that the little girl would get bored if I just let her sit there. Every few moments when I could see the frown forming on her face, I would reach over and tickle her, smiling to myself when she would laugh. She even offered me a lick or two of her lollipop. She was pure giggles after I kissed her cheek and left the sticky sugar imprint of my lips behind.

I turned back to finish throwing in a few items for the last load when Lux giggled and leaned towards me whispering. “Issy’s over there.”

My heart froze, the very blood in my veins stopped moving as I turned my head in the direction that she was talking about. The spot. For the past weeks I’d managed to avoid acknowledging it, but there it was. I don’t know what I expected. Did I actually think I was going to see her standing there, smiling cutely? It was just the spot. Empty.

“No, Lux. No more Issy.” A moment later my phone rang and I dug it out of my pocket, seeing Lou’s name there.

She just wanted to talk to me and ask me how I was doing and then I explained to her that I was watching Lux and I would have her back to Lou soon. Of course, Lou was concerned that I’d taken her daughter somewhere dangerous, so I had to reassure her that we were only doing laundry. I packed up my clothes a little bit later and took Luxy’s hand, taking her home to her mum.

*

It was just a random Saturday and I was more tired than I’d been in a few weeks. For the first time since the accident, I’d gone to work. Tommo and I had written a song and, even though I think he was lying, he said it was one of the best we’d written so far. I recorded some vocals for one of the songs that the other four guys had decided on, and I was just exhausted by all of it.

I considered calling a service or something and having them do my laundry, but at the last minute I changed my mind, shoving my feet into a pair of banged up old boots.

It was just a random Saturday and I was filled with exhaustion and maybe a bit hungover. I even greeted Mia when I walked in. I had just opened the lid of the machine, holding it up to get my first load of clothes inside. That’s when I heard it.

“Liam.”

I could’ve choked on my own heart in that instant. It was her voice. I was sure of it. Barely more than a whisper, but nothing less than a shout; I’d heard her voice say my name.

The lid of the machine slipped out of my hands, slamming closed with a sound that made everyone but myself jump. My hand stayed in the air, my eyes had gone wide, and I was panicking sort of, looking all around for her. Only avoiding looking in the spot.

Am I going crazy? To think I hear my dead girlfriend saying my name?

*

Still exhausted, I tried my best to do album things with the band. I was still fighting the growing fear that I was losing my mind. Memories had been haunting me since that day when I heard her voice again. It was crystal clear; there was no way it was imagined. I could nearly hear the smile in her voice. Since then I’d just been having flashbacks to times before when she’d said my name like that, but that’s the thing.

None of them had been like that, it was impossible that it had just been my sleep-deprived mind recalling her voice from the past.

Some nights I still found it hard to breathe. I wanted her lying there beside me, nuzzling her nose into my neck, her arm curled over my stomach, and her lips kissing that spot on my collarbone. I wanted to hug her and smell her perfume mixed with her shampoo and that scent that was just her. I wanted to hear her laugh and say every word, more than just my name, I wanted to run my fingers through her hair, kiss her, look into her eyes and memorize each and every color that made her eyes more resplendent than diamonds.

I just wanted her. Here. Nowhere but here.

*

Harry came with me to the Laundromat a few weeks later. We’d been busy all day and I was still going crazy about the happening of a few weeks past. Nothing else had happened, but now I was dreaming of her all the time and I was driving myself mad. Harry was growing concerned and had insisted that he follow me around that whole Saturday.

He’d been there when her mum called to tell me that my birthday present had arrived. Issy had ordered it at the start of the year probably, promising me that it was going to be a good one and she couldn’t wait to see my face when I opened it. Now, my birthday was in a week and it had arrived at her parents’ home, ready for me. I was in a poignant mood when we arrived at the Laundromat and Harry wasn’t much different really.

“Mate, why do you still come here?” He asked after a couple moments of silence. Other than us, the place was empty, even Mia wasn’t behind the front desk.

I frowned as I replied, “I like it here. I always have.” My voice snagged on the word always. ‘Always’ I’d promised her that I’d be there for her.

I turned to see Harry looking down at his dumb boots with the holes in them, shaking his head. “This can’t be healthy. It’s only been two months, Liam. You need more time.” He stepped forward and dropped a hand on my shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting way.

Instead, I got pissed. He was one of the ones that had been trying to make me get over here and now that he’s here he’s decided that I haven’t had enough time to get over her? He just doesn’t like seeing me so sad here. He doesn’t like that spot, the blaringly obvious spot in the corner over there. I was pissed off, so I shoved him away.

“I need to get my laundry done, Styles! I don’t have anyone to do it for me anymore. I don’t care if this is where she worked!” I do.“I don’t care if this is where it happened, Harry!” I care about that even more. “I just-“ My voice vanished as if someone had torn it out of me.

Even though I’d shoved him away, he stepped to me again, wrapping his arms around me. He rubbed my back and let me tuck my head into his shoulder, let me wet his favorite tshirt with my tears. “You need to stop doing this to yourself, Li.” His voice was soft and tight, like he was trying to keep himself from crying. “You cleared out her apartment already. She’s gone. She’s buried.” I felt like he punched me in the stomach, and I was choking on air. “I’m sorry, but being in this place isn’t going to help you anymore.”

I pulled back from him, knowing fully well that I looked a right mess. No doubt my face was pink and wet. Everyone always told me I was an ugly crier. I looked him straight in the eyes, facing his sadness with my despair. “I know. I know, but I can’t help it. Every time I’m here I just – This place almost makes me feel better; it makes me feel like she’s still here with me. I know it’s crazy sounding, but I miss her.” My bottom lip began trembling and Harry sighed, wrapping his arms around me again.

*

On the day of my birthday, I was a sad sight. I didn’t want to celebrate. Her mum had sent the present to my house and I’d foolishly opened it that morning, instantly upsetting myself because it was perfect and had Issy still been around she would’ve loved my reaction. Well, my real reaction, not the sobby one.

Somehow, I’d convinced everyone to understand that I didn’t want a party quite yet, I just wasn’t in the right place. Instead I did my usual things I do on Saturdays: laundry.

After that was finished I went to the grocery store and spent half an hour searching for the perfect piece of chocolate pie. On the day that the accident happened, she’d called me. She was just getting to work, I was getting off of work, and she asked me if I would drop by the store on the way home and get her a slice of chocolate pie. I’d have it waiting for her when she got to mine for a movie night.

Except she never arrived and the store was out of chocolate pie.

Today, the store had an excess of the stuff, but most of them weren’t perfect, so I searched until I found one. Next I went to the florist and found her favorite flowers, getting a bouquet of them, and then I was on my way to the cemetery. Honestly, I hadn’t been there since the day of the funeral. The guard had just closed the gate when I got there and I begged and begged him to let me in. It worked and soon I was kneeling in front of her headstone, crying and apologizing. I left her the pie, her flowers, many tears, and an apology.

What a way to spend my birthday.


	3. One Step Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isobelle thinks she’s going crazy. There are blank spots in her memory and the only constant is this beautiful boy that keeps appearing in the Laundromat. After following him around a bit, she discovers something about both him and herself that she never expected. A whole new world unfolds in front of her and she has to learn how to cope with it’s limitations. 
> 
> ((this story is written in alternating points of view. first chapter is her pov, the second is his, and back and forth like that for the rest of the story))

\---  
 _In the crowd alone_  
 _And every second passing reminds me I’m not home_  
 _Bright lights and city sounds are ringing like a drone_  
 _Unknown, unknown_  
\---

**Isobelle's POV**

*

Dear Diary,  
It’s all coming back to me. Sort of. I remember that I worked at the Laundromat, spent a lot of my free time in the park with my friends, and I volunteered some of my time at the library. Most importantly, Liam was my boyfriend and I was dead. A ghost. Just an echo of myself that can only exist in places I frequent. Places like my jobs or my favorite paths in the park, places like wherever Liam is. The only place I can’t go is to my apartment.  


I haven’t seen him much; I think I’m trying to avoid him.  


All I know for certain is that me being dead really explains a lot of my problems. The black outs, the no one paying attention to me thing. The weird connection to Liam.  


The worst thing was that I was really starting to get my love back for him. There was a crippling ache constantly in my chest except for when I saw him and it diminished slightly until I remembered that I couldn’t touch him or communicate with him, and then it returned full-force.  


I found one decent thing though. I was able to go sit in the movie theatre and watch films. I’d worked there for year and a half, spending nearly every waking hour there, so apparently that had been enough time to establish a connection for me to use in this afterlife. While I was avoiding the Laundromat and the park, I managed to see every film that was playing and a few more interesting things.  


Obviously I saw him a few times because I was drawn to him even when I wasn’t trying, but most of my time, I decided to spend it in that blackout zone where I was unaware of everything and anything in the world that I’d left behind. I still didn’t know how I died.

*

Dear Diary,  
After a month (I think) of avoiding the Laundromat, I returned today. Liam was already there, stuffing hoodies into the machine and then fiddling with the buttons. He was pouting because it wasn’t working properly, and I felt a craving rise up in myself to laugh and help him, but I couldn’t. I didn’t stay long.

*

Dear Diary,  
The best thing happened today. I was hanging around in the library, just moving through the shelves of books when I nearly ran into someone. A little woman, probably in her mid-fifties, had been trying to reach one of the books on a higher up shelf. To my surprise, she saw me. “Oops! I’m sorry, dear.” I’m sure my eyes had gone wide because she laughed, “Sorry to frighten you.”  


I didn’t say a word, instead I looked down at the books she’d already collected around her feet. Only one word stood out to me on a cover that was half-hidden. **Paranormal.** My eyes shot back to her and she was still smiling and I realized that she must be the owner of that shop on the far side of town. I’d passed by it once with one of my friends and she’d laughed, telling me that the lady that lived and worked there claimed to be a medium.  


It was true.  


“Are you surprised I can see you?” She asked and stretched a hand towards me, her fingers colliding with my arm. I jumped back in surprise. It was the strangest feeling. It was like she was touching me, but through an electric field that caused her skin to feel like fire and zip against my skin. “I have frightened you then. I’m sorry, what’s your name?”  


Her brown eyes were welcoming, begging me to talk to her. “I’m Isobelle.” It was the first time I’d really heard my voice since before. My full voice not whispered or just echoes in my mind.  


“Isobelle,” She smiled. “Welcome to the other side. I’m Candace; I’m a medium, I can help you.” Once again she touched my arm and I flinched, but didn’t move fully away.  


We talked for a little while and she told me that I could get into her shop anytime. She said something about charms and things that let new spirits in even if they’d never been there before. It’s kind of great that she can see me. I mean, if she can see me and hear me and touch me then maybe, just maybe, she can help me with Liam.

*

Dear Diary,  
Candace came through. I asked her about if I could get Liam to see me again or hear me. “Well, I’ve found that if you were especially close to a person before and you say their name while you’re in their general proximity, they will hear you say their name. But only the name.” That explained that day when I said his name super quietly and he freaked out. He must’ve heard me.  


A few days later Candace told me that she’d done some research and there was a way to appear to him. She’s going to teach me what to do sometime next week. I’m getting nervous.

*

Dear Diary,  
So I saw him today. He was with a girl that I didn’t recognize. She had curly hair and she was skinny, really pretty. They were hugging. I didn’t stay around long enough to see anything else. Is it selfish of me that I don’t want him to move on?

*

Dear Diary,  
Candace went over everything with me today. I know what I have to do to get Liam to be able to see me and hear me speak more than his name. It’s quite easy, but now I’m nervous. Ever since I saw him with that girl, I’ve been doubting this. What if he doesn’t want to see me? I mean, I’m dead, why would he want to see me? Especially if he’s moving on. But from what I remember of before, we were head over heels for each other and could barely stand to spend time apart.  


I think I’ll do it. What do I have to lose, right? I’m already dead.


	4. Cold Reality

\-------

_It’s just another night_  
 _And I’m staring at the moon_  
 _I saw a shooting star_  
 _And I thought of you_  
 _I sang a lullaby_  
 _By the waterside and knew_  
 _If you were here_  
 _I’d sing to you_  
\--------

**Liam's POV**

I ran into an old friend one day in early September. I was just walking around, still sort of mopey, when I bumped into her. “Liam! Oh my God, hi!” She pulled me in for a quick hug and I didn’t fight it. “I’m so sorry, I heard about Isobelle. Are you okay?” She’d always been this way with me. If something went even slightly wrong, she’d be concerned and wrap me up, cuddle me until I showed her a smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It happened in June, so I’ve had some time to accept it. I still miss her, of course.” I sniffled, mostly because of the chilly air, but also partially because of Issy. She cooed and pulled me in for another hug.

She comforted me for a few more moments, she told me a bit about how everything was going for her. “I’m glad we got to catch up, Li. I’ve missed your smile.” She kissed my cheek and waved goodbye.

 *

A few nights later, I was at home, trying to fall asleep. Since I had a good month or two off before we resumed tour and that hectic life, Ruth had dropped Loki off. It took him a little while to get used to the house. He was sniffing around everywhere, searching the house as if he was looking for something. Soon it was as if we’d been together all the time, he would be standing at the door, tail wagging excitedly when I got home, ready to go for a walk or anything.

A lot of the time, I’d take him out for a quick walk up and down the road, let him do his doggy business, and then we’d come back inside for a night in bed, watching either a film or TV. A few nights after that strange encounter with my old friend, Loki and I were settled down for the night at the oh-so late hour of nine o’clock pm.

He was snoring softly, head resting on my stomach. Every few minutes one of his legs would twitch. I was halfway asleep myself when I heard the floor outside my bedroom door creak.

My eyes flashed open, every muscle in my body going taut. My door was shut and in the silence that suddenly screamed, I couldn’t hear anything. My heart was jumping in my chest and I realized just how much of a wimp I was being. Grabbing the baseball bat I kept in the corner of my room, I slipped over towards the door, leaving Loki snoring on the bed.

I threw open the door, expecting to see a person, a shadow, anything, but there was nothing and I was threatening nothing with my baseball bat raised above my head.

Behind me I heard Loki make a sound that was a mix between a whimper and a growl. I spun around, bat still held high, but all I saw was Loki, now standing and staring at the TV, the whimpering growl rolling from his mouth.

“Shush, Loki.” I patted his head as I dropped the bat onto the floor, slipping into the warm bed once again. He settled down after a moment, resting his head on my stomach once again, but this time he left his eyes open, watching the TV.

I should’ve known that was weird, but the sleepiness I’d been wrapped in a few minutes before enveloped me again. I’d barely drifted off before I felt a cold breeze waft through the room, sending goosebumps to prickle my arms. With my eyes closed, I could almost feel the wind moving in a distinct shape, icy fingers brushing over my forehead and into my hair, running through it calmly.

Loki made that noise again and I opened my eyes.

“Shit!” I scrambled backwards, kicking at the sheets, my foot slipping into a section of air that was so cold I thought I would lose my foot. My heart was on my tongue as I looked up at the watery, translucent form of Isobelle that hovered beside my bed. “Fuck fuck fuck.” I had my back against the wall on the other side of the bed; I raked my nails through my hair and pressed my palms against my eyes. “Wake up wake up wake up, Liam, you idiot.” 

_Liam._ I heard her voice and tears stung my eyelids, begging to be spilt. I was fucking scared. I had finally gone off the deep end; I was mental. Seeing my dead girlfriend and hearing her and

Shit.

Frosty air wrapped around me once again, Loki was whimpering now and I was close to joining him. _Liam,_ Her voice came again.

Slowly I opened my eyes that tingled from the cold. She was there in front of me. Well, it was like looking at an image of her through water, her whole self blurring and waving. I watched as she reached a hand towards me, stopping a few inches away.

When I met her eyes my heart cracked, my brain throbbed, and I felt my throat closing in with longing. “Issy,” I sighed. Her eyes, though watery, shined the same as they always had. “Issy, I miss you.” My eyes were still tearing and my skin felt close to frostbitten.

_Liam._ Her eyes were begging and she moved her hand again, catching my attention.

As soon as my fingers touched hers, the whatever it was surrounding her shattered like glass. The frigid air faded to a much more bearable chill and Issy was still there, her feet on the ground, her image still quite a bit translucent, but other than that she was here.

“Isobelle.” I whispered, reaching for her. “I must be dreaming or insane. Maybe I’m both.” My fingers curled against the air a few centimeters in front of her arm. “Can I touch you?” Her eyes were radiant with joy as she nodded, speechless. My thumb brushed over her arm and zings of electricity rose from my fingertip to my heart. “Definitely crazy at last.”

She sighed at my touch, moving closer and closer until we were almost touching completely. Our faces a breath or two apart, she raised a cold hand to my cheek. “Liam,” It was that same breathy version of my name that had been replaying in my head since that day at the Laundromat. “Liam, you see me.”

My hand was still on her arm, rubbing circles in that one spot, in wonder that her skin wasn’t warming at my contact and the other fell to rest on her waist; my heart stuttered in my chest as I looked at her, as I slowly realized I was holding her. “How are you here? You’re – you’re…”

She nodded, continuing to scan my face. “Dead, I know. I’m a ghost, Li. I finally met that medium in town and she helped me figure things out though. Now you can see me too.” I raised an eyebrow at her use of the word ‘too’. “I’ve been able to see you for a few months now, I think. I don’t have any real concept of time anymore, so that’s just a guess. I just woke up one day and I was at the Laundromat and then you came in and my world changed. I couldn’t remember you, but you were beautiful and I fell in love with you right away.”

Her words sent a shiver down my spine. “You’ve been at the Laundromat all this time?” She nodded and I pulled her closer to me by her waist. “So it was you that I heard that day? And Lux actually did see you?” She nodded once again.

“I’ve been here on and off for a while. I didn’t know I was dead until a few weeks ago. I just thought everyone was ignoring me.” Her fingers on my cheek moved up into my hair, soothing against my scalp. “I thought I was going crazy. My only solid thing here was you. I love you.” Her voice had fallen softer and softer until it was just a whisper with those final words, her hands on my head pulling my lips down to hers.

The iciness of her mouth collided with the warmth of mine and it was like we created a lightning storm in our mouths; electrifying sparks flying through our lips and tongues. I was holding her close, tight so I’d never have to let her go, and she was doing the same for me.

I don’t know how long we kept our storm brewing, but when we broke apart, her cheeks were wet. “I have to go.” She sniffled, still holding to me tightly. “I can’t stay around long; getting you to be able to see me took too much energy. From now on you’ll be able to see me. I don’t think anyone else will though.” She pulled free of me, and my body warmed in her absence and I’d never before been so sad to feel warm. “Only you, Candace, and Loki can see me now.” She looked over at my dog, still spread out on the bed and watching us.

“I love you, Issy.” I pulled her in for one quick kiss and before it was even over, she had vanished.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Diary,

I don’t know why I’m writing in you. I don’t actually _write_ in you. I feel like Tom Riddle. I think the words and they appear in the diary. I’ve recently found out that Liam has this little book and although I can read all of the entries I’ve written since I died, he sees nothing.

“Your parents and I cleaned out your apartment and I brought it home with me. I wanted to keep this piece of you.” He explained to me as he brought it out from the strongbox in the back of his closet, holding out the small book to me. “I swear I only read the first few pages.”

I reached for the book and held it in my hands. There were a few things I could touch, I was glad this was one. When Liam left the room for a little while, I settled down on his bed. Loki was at my feet. Since I’d been spending more time around Liam and therefore Loki, the dog and I had gotten used to each other. He even tried to wrap himself around my feet and I let him. I opened the diary, sitting it on my legs and flipping through the pages until I got to the end.

It was perfectly up to date as if I’d been writing in it all this time. I tucked it away in the safe under the bed that Liam had bought for me. “I want you to have some place to put your things when you aren’t here.” So I stuck it inside before he came back.

 

Dear Diary,

I’ve found that I can follow Liam wherever he goes. Anywhere at all. I can disappear so that he doesn’t see me, but I can still go around. I’ve followed him to the recording studio and I’ve seen the boys again. I’ve heard their weird conversations that I would rather not have heard. Like, for example, Niall talking about an issue he’s being having with a certain part of his body.

I go see Candace every now and then; she seems lonely sometimes. She’s told me that she doesn’t get to meet as many spirits as she used to. Most of them just move on before she gets a chance to do anything. “I don’t know. It’s odd. Just five years ago I used to see more of them. I guess that’s a good thing though, right? Less people dying and all that.” She looked at me apologetically then. “I’m sorry, Isobelle.”  It was fine. I couldn’t remember dying which she told me was unusual. I could ask Liam, but I didn’t particularly want to bring that topic up yet.

Candace has told me that I probably can’t go back to my apartment since they moved all of my things out and I never spent all that much time there anyway.

 

Dear Diary,

Summer has morphed into autumn and the trees in the cemetery are changing to hues of fire. Sometimes I go with Liam when he goes to visit. I don’t understand why he does considering that he’s basically got me right here.

“That’s the thing, Issy. You’re only _basically_ here. It’s still you buried there.” He decorates my headstone with my favorite flowers that I can no longer smell and a pocket watch that I used to wear sometimes. He tells me stories sometimes, about things that’ve happened to him since ‘the accident’ as he calls it. It makes me wonder if it was just a car accident, but then I remembered that he and Harry were talking about it at the Laundromat like it happened there.

I still don’t want to ask. Yeah, the curiosity is killing me – no pun intended – but I don’t want to bring those thoughts up to Liam. He’s obviously still quite aware of the fact that I’m dead and he’s holding onto my tangible self more than this self. I know he can touch me, but surely he misses when he could feel the warmth of my skin instead of the icy, malleableness that is me now.

When I actually stay the night with him, sleeping over the sheets of his bed so as not to freeze him, I miss it too. Before. I can no longer touch him the way I used to. While we can both feel each other it’s just not the same and there are lots of things we can’t do. No kissing, no sexual contact. I miss him.

 

Dear Diary,

It’s getting easier and easier for me to stay around Liam for longer periods of time. That first night I barely managed ten minutes, now I’m up to four or five hours. Sometimes I walk with him in public and we talk. He holds his phone up to his ear though so it doesn’t look like he’s talking to himself.  We’ve grown so used to each other’s company again, that I’m worried for when he’ll leave.

He’s told me that the tour starts up again in a few weeks and he will be leaving. I don’t know if I can go with him. In one of my many conversations with Candace, she’s said something about the spirit still being tied to the body even after death. It can’t go too far unless they’ve moved on, which I’m clearly not doing. She’s not wholly sure if I can visit him though. I’ve spent so much time with him in life and death that I very well could be able to follow him anywhere in the world.

I tried to test it out when he was driving back to Wolverhampton for the weekend to see his family and return Loki to Ruth before he had to leave. I was in the car and we made it as far as the outskirts of London before I felt a tug in my chest and then I vanished into that nowhere space that I go sometimes.

It sucks and I don’t like it.

 

Dear Diary,

So I was sitting in Liam’s house, waiting for him to get home. Naturally, I got bored and I started just looking around. The more time I spend in this semi-tangible form, the more things I can actually touch. I’m still only visible to mediums, animals, and Liam, but I can move a few things now too. Call me weird, but I was cleaning up his house a little, moving around the things I could and putting them away.

He had a couple things sitting out on the bedside table, so I tugged on the drawer to push them inside. That’s when I saw it. A tiny blue velvet box, tucked in the corner, half-hidden under a few papers.

I had an inkling of what it could be, and I reached out my hand for it, expecting to feel the normal zing of electricity that I got from everything else I touched, but also the velvety feel of the jewelry box. Instead, I felt nothing, my fingers brushed straight through it and out the drawer and I sighed, slumping down onto his bed and laying there until he got home.

 

Dear Diary,

He got home, was here for a day, and then left, kissing me on the cheek and telling me that he was sorry, but they had rehearsals in a city more up north for the tour. I couldn’t understand why they couldn’t do rehearsals there in London, but then it didn’t matter because he was gone and I was alone in his house again.

This is really beginning to suck ass this whole being dead and able to walk through walls and stuff, but I can’t even follow my still-living boyfriend across the country. Instead I’ve been spending my time with Candace, trying to find ways for me to get around some of these ghost blocks, and all the rest of my time, I’m at the library, studying up on ghostly things. Once or twice the librarians have stumbled upon me sitting at a table reading a book and because they can’t see me, they assume someone left the book there and they take it away. That’s always terrible, but I’m starting to get used to it.

 

Dear Diary,

I did it! I don’t know how and I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again, but I was just laying on his bed, thinking about him and then suddenly I was in a bright room and Niall’s laugh was ringing all around me. Zayn had his back to me and Louis was in front of him, pointing at one of Zayn’s tattoos. Behind me I heard Liam squeal and I spun around to see him staring at me.

“You alright, Payno?” Niall asked, the humorous laughter gone as they all turned their eyes to the undeniably shocked Liam Payne. “Look like you’ve seen a ghost. Shit, that was a bad choice of words.”

Liam shook his head and stood up suddenly. “No, no. I’m fine. I just – I remembered that I left the sink on in my room. I’ll be right back!” He scurried out of the room and I followed, hearing Louis shouting after him to bring Curly back with him. As soon as we were free of the room and definitely out of earshot, Liam turned to me, pulling me into his arms and burying his nose in my hair.

“You’re here?! How?” His voice was barely above a whisper and I could see the goosebumps covering his skin. “Issy, really, how’d you do it?”

I shrugged, pulling away from him. “I don’t know. I was at home and then suddenly… Here.” His eyes scanned my body and he gathered me back in his arms, tugging me to him again. “Liam,” I giggled as he started kissing the side of my throat. “Someone’s going to spot you and think you’ve gone mad.”

The only response from him was for him to tickle my chin with his hair as he continued to place hot, electric kisses on my skin. His fingers stung against my hips as my fingers surely felt like ice cubes going through his hair. I tugged his lips up to my mouth, needing to kiss him after a whole four days away from him. We stayed like that for a few minutes. He had me pressed up against the wall, our tiny lightning storm living on in our mouths.

Until suddenly the sound of footsteps echoed around us and Liam pulled away, running his own fingers through his hair and wiping at his face as if that would make him look any less like he’d just been making out with someone. He leaned back against the wall as I started giggling, throwing a glare at me while he pulled his phone out to look more casual.

Harry bobbed around the corner, his head dancing to some music that only he could hear. “Hey, Li. Are you alright? You’re looking a bit flushed?” I started laughing and I could tell by the way that his knuckles whitened around his phone that he wanted to turn and glare at me but he couldn’t.

“Yeah, mate, I’m fine. Louis was asking for you.” Harry nodded at Liam’s words and then moved along, still nodding his head, nibbling on an orange segment that he pulled out of his pocket.

“He’s so strange.” I told Liam to which he snorted a laugh, causing Harry to spin around and raise his eyebrows at his bandmate.

Liam just held up his phone and shook it. “Funny joke from Andy. Wanna hear?” Harry frowned and shook his head, continuing on his way and out of earshot. “He’s always disliked Andy. Knew that would get him to leave.”  

And then he was pulling me along behind him into a room not too far away, shutting and locking the door behind him. He crushed his lips against mine and I feared that there would be an actual lightning strike between our tongues if he kept kissing me like this. All that electricity couldn’t be good for him. When he started running his hands along my ribs, down towards the hem of my shirt, I knew where  he was thinking of and I regretfully had to stop him.

“Li, baby, I’m sorry, but we can’t.” I parted my mouth from his and dropped my hands to his shoulders, holding him at an arm’s length. He was already shivering, fingertips turning a light shade of blue from their contact with my skin. I wish sometimes we could reverse that and I could warm up instead of freeze.

I watched as he groaned and took another step back until his back hit the door, dropping his head back with a thud. “I know. I’m sorry, Issy. I’m sorry. I love you so much. This is so hard for me.” I drifted over to him, lightly running my fingers over his cheekbones. His eyes fluttered closed and the pink rose in his cheeks, the blood rushing to warm the surface.

“I’ll go.” I whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go, Li. I’ll be at home when you come back.  Don’t worry about me and put your all into rehearsal. I know that you’ve got all of these fans waiting on you. They just want to see how you’re doing, I’m sure. Try not to look too happy that I’m dead.”

His face paled as he looked up at me, eyes suddenly gaunt and desperate for me to just stay with him. I kissed his other cheek, sighing sadly when the hair on his arms stood up. This can never _really_ work.

Then I was gone and he was left alone to continue rehearsals.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

After Issy disappeared from rehearsals, I took a few minutes to get myself together and return to the boys. As soon as I opened the door to that room, I came face-to-face with Harry, his green eyes full of worry.

“Liam, I’m going to ask you a serious question.” Oh shit. “Are you like _praying_ to Isobelle?” He nodded past me into the room. “I heard you apologizing. You know that it’s not your fault right?”

I scoffed and felt my throat close up a tiny bit. “Of course it’s my fault, Harry. She’s dead, she was my girlfriend; it was my responsibility to keep her safe and yet she’s dead. I failed, Harry.” I pushed by him, but he closed his warm hand around my bicep. I shivered and yanked away from him. It had been so long since I’d actually had contact with someone who hadn’t been freezing.

Harry turned me around to face him. “You’re not alright, Liam Payne. I can see that. I don’t know if you’re still just torn up because of Issy or if you’ve just seriously gone off your rocker, either way, you need to find help because we’ve got a tour starting in a week and half and there are millions of fans counting on us to not screw this up. Okay?”

“Okay.” I replied, my voice tight. Who was he to think that he could boss me around like this? “I’m fine, Harry. I swear. That in there, I was … I don’t know what I was doing, alright. I just wanted to talk to her, I know she won’t respond or anything.” Only she does respond to me, that’s the thing.

 

We eventually completed rehearsals and were given the schedule that would be our lives for the next ten months. We’d be leaving the following week and from then we wouldn’t be home for another two months, then home for a week and a half. Directly following that week, we’d be in the US and then Canada, Mexico, for three months, then South American tour for two months, one month back in the UK for a short break and then down to Australia, NZ, and Japan for two months. Great.

Issy was exactly where she’d said that she would be. She wasn’t at my house, she was at home. To her, home had always been the library, the back corner of the mythology and supernatural section, ironically. I found her there, reading a book that sat on the floor in front of her. “Hey, Issy.” I lowered myself down beside her.

“You’re back,” She sighed ,leaning into me and instantly my skin prickled from the chill that I was growing used to. “Sorry,” she mumbled and moved away from me, heat instantly rushing back into my bones. “I told myself to stop getting so close to you. I’ll just be getting you sick if I keep making you so cold.” She pushed her light hair behind her ear, eyes flickering around the pages of the book in front of her.

I leaned back against the wall. “You’re fine, Issy, really. I don’t mind the cold. Don’t you remember that time when we got lost and the car almost died on us, so I walked all the way back on the road until I found a town. It was freezing out and snowing. I was fine, I’ll be fine now.”

She frowned, reaching down to close the cover of the book, but her fingers passed right through it and her frown deepened. “I hate when this happens to me.” I leaned forward and closed it for her. “Will you check this book out at the front desk, Li? I really want to keep reading it at the house.” I nodded and stood up, holding my hand out for her to use as help to stand up, but instead of that she vanished, leaving me completely alone in our corner of the library.

 

A few days later, I was standing in the kitchen making some dinner when I felt the whoosh of cold air that usually preceded her. “Hey, Is.” Her arms wrapped around my waist and she tucked her chin on my shoulder, her breath breezing over my skin, sending shivers up and down my body. “What’s up?”

I had three days left before we began tour and she’d been keeping her distance from me a little bit. She’d done the same thing before the accident, so I should’ve been expecting it anyway.

I’d finished cooking and moved out to sit on the sofa when she spoke up for the first time. Her feet were in my lap, body stretched out over the other cushions, and her sparkling eyes watched me, the glitter a bit dulled today.

“Liam, be straight with me.” Her tone was serious, so I made a joke.

“I am straight, babe, why do you think I feel the way I do about you.”

Her lips didn’t move into that smile that I’d wanted to see, in fact, she only grew more serious. “How did I die?”

I nearly swallowed my mouthful of food whole, which would’ve resulted in me joining her in death. “What?”

She stood up, “Nevermind.” And she disappeared. She’s been doing that a lot lately.

 

The night before I was set to leave, she appeared behind me while I was brushing my teeth. I nearly had a heart attack when suddenly there was another figure beside me in the mirror. “Shit, Isobelle, you can’t just sneak up on me like that.”

She smiled a little and apologized, her fingers reached forward to trace over the tiny sailboat tattoo on my collarbone. “This is for me, right? Because I wanted to travel the world with you. Those dreams were ridiculous. We never would’ve been able to do it.” She sat down on the toilet seat; I spat out my mouthful of minty toothpaste, rinsing it down the drain and swishing some water around my mouth. I dried my mouth on a towel and then motioned for her to give me her hand.

Her cool skin smoothly slid over mine and our hands folded together. I pulled her to her feet and flush against my body, our breaths mingling creating a cloud between us. “Do you still want to know?” I asked her the question that I’d been contemplating since her sudden evaporation a few days before.

“Yes!” Her eyes shot open wide and her other hand slid around the back of my neck, forcing me to bow my head towards her. “Please.”

It was all I’d been thinking about. I had been going over every detail of it since the moment after she’d gone. Harry had told me to talk to someone about it, so why not talk to her about her death. I figured that she needed it just as much as I did.

She followed me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, slipping onto the covers while I slid under them. I took a deep breath and began.

 

It had been a long week of promoting the tour, doing a few interviews, and we’d had an award show that management had told us we couldn’t bring dates to (I was tempted to bring Issy just to spite them). That particular night was the 19th of June, a Saturday night and I was leaving the studio where Louis and I had been writing a song with Julian.

My phone rang and I glanced down briefly to see Issy’s grin splashed across the screen. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey, Li. I’m at the Laundromat, are you on your way home?”I hummed an affirmation. “Okay, well, I’m stuck here for another hour, but do you think you could stop at the store and get me a slice of chocolate pie? I’ve been craving it all day long, but I haven’t had the time to go get any. Will you please? You’ll be the best boyfriend ever.”

I laughed into the phone, telling her I would do that. We were in the middle of talking when she swore, explaining that a customer had just done something wrong and then she mumbled a hurried “goodbye, I love you” and hung up on me. That was it. That was it, but I didn’t know it yet.

I had just frowned at my phone, shaking my head, and telling myself that I’d tease her about hanging up on me when she got home that night. I drove to the store, ran into a few fans who I took pictures with, and then I made my way over to the pie section. They had cherry pie, coconut pie, blackberry, raspberry, strawberry. Basically every kind of pie except for chocolate pie was represented in the store. I sighed, hoping that she would be okay without it if I just told her why.

I drove home, passing a police car with its lights flashing as it drove in the opposite direction, an ambulance following a moment later. The digital clock on my dashboard read 21:25 and I figured that it was nothing.

I got home, tossed my keys on the countertop and rummaged through the refrigerator for the leftover pasta from the night before. The TV was playing some dumb panel show when my phone began blaring from my pocket. I thought nothing of it, lifting it to my ear without looking; my mouth was full of pasta. “’Lo?”

The next words could’ve been the death of me, I honestly don’t know how I got out of the house and into my car and across the city to the hospital. It was a tall terrifying building that I hadn’t been to since I’d been scared for Andy’s life. But now it was Issy’s life and she was…

No. I couldn’t think it.

There was a policeman and a policewoman waiting for me, arms folded and identical somber expressions on their faces. The man gave me the news, the woman’s somber expression faded and melted into sympathy, stepping closer to me and comforting me as I was told that my girlfriend had just… she’d just…

The weight in my pocket, the small blue box weighed heavier than ever. Now it was a reminder of what never even had the chance to happen. I shut down, I can’t tell you what happened over the course of the next few hours; I only returned to myself when I saw her parents, shocked and horrified running down the hall towards where the police were still guarding their daughter’s door.

As soon as her mother saw me, saw the tear tracks and everything, she covered her mouth, eyes welling up and she turned to bury her face in her husband’s shoulder. It was too late, we all knew that, yet we waited outside her room for hours, all of us crying, Issy’s sister and brother showed up eventually, joining in on the grievances of their sister.

Eventually we were asked to leave the hospital. It was only one o’clock in the morning, and I didn’t want to go home so I went out to a bar, got loaded and somehow found my way to Issy’s apartment building. She’d given me the key probably half a year ago when we’d hit our two year anniversary, so I easily let myself into the one bedroom flat.

Everything smelled like her. Everything was just _there_ waiting for her to come back. The pad of paper and the pen on her kitchen table showed a half-finished grocery list. Her laptop was still open, the screen saver playing, showing pictures of us. I touched the mousepad and it unlocked to reveal that she was in the midst of writing up something for the library.

Her bedroom was the worst. I nudged the door open with my toes, quietly so as not to wake her. It was a habit I’d gotten into after many long, late nights at the studio. Not that that mattered anymore. There was no waking her up with tickles and a kiss anymore. No more seeing her smile as the sunlight hit her cheeks and her hair; no more witnessing the way that her nose would scrunch up as she laughed over breakfast or lunch or dinner or anything at all. No more.

Clothes were spread all around her room. For someone that worked at a Laundromat, Issy had always had an immense amount of dirty clothes. I toed some of them out of the way, walking slowly over to her bed, drunkenly stumbling over my own feet. I curled up on her bed, covering myself with the bedsheets that smelled of her body wash. My nose was buried in her pillow that smelled like her rosy shampoo.

I choked on my sobs that whole night, soaking her pillow and ruining my face for the next three days.

Before first light I was out of there, still drunk, and I drove towards my house, but changed my mind halfway there, spinning around towards the Laundromat. It was a bad idea. Shit, I don’t need anyone to tell me that; I knew it at the time. That voice in the back of my head that sounded too much like hers was telling me not to go there, to turn around and go back to my house. To curl up in bed with water and aspirin, and wake up in the morning and deal with my hangover.

But no. I didn’t listen. Why didn’t I listen?

The police were still surrounding the building, flashing lights and too much noise as the sky faded from a dark shade of blue to a lighter one. No one would let me in, so I stood back behind the police line, watching as they did all of that crime scene evidence stuff.

When the sunlight finally broke over the horizon, casting strings of citrusy light through the city, the owner of the Laundromat arrived along with a few employees. I caught sight of Jesse, one of Issy’s favorite co-workers. “Jesse!” I called to him, beckoning him over.

His face dropped when he saw me and he quickly came over to my side. “Liam, why aren’t you at home? You should definitely be at home. You’re drunk. Do you want me to drive you home?” I shook my head at him.

“Just tell me what happened. No one’s told me exactly what. I’ve only been told _that_.”

His hand clapped against my back. “I’ll tell you, mate, just please, let me drive you home.” After a few more minutes of me refusing, he talked me into it and I climbed into her seat, the passenger seat.

The ride was silent, only when he had helped me up to my door and he’d fit the key into the lock, helping me inside as I felt my eyelids finally growing heavy. “Liam, get up to your bed.” He instructed, pointing at my stairs that led up to my bedroom door. He walked into the kitchen and I heard him opening and closing cabinets until he found what he was looking for.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed when he walked in, his hair messy like he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly. In his hands were a glass of water and some aspirin, both of which he set down on the bedside table.

I had only met Jesse once or twice, but he’d seemed like a nice guy and Is had always told me that he was the sweetest and most helpful guy on the planet. I guess she was right because he didn’t think twice about helping me that morning, not even stopping to think when I couldn’t get my belt buckle undone, so he undid it for me, helped me kick the jeans off.

They thudded onto the floor and he looked down at them, digging through the pockets, coming out with my phone and my wallet which he sat beside the water and aspirin, then in the other pocket, his fingers closed in on the box. The exact moment that he realized what it was could be pinpointed; his face had shifted from just feeling bad for this man who had lost his girlfriend to feeling terrible because this poor man was going to propose to that girl.

“Liam,” his voice softly sighed and I felt the tears rising up into my eyes again. “Liam, I’m so sorry.”

I watched through blurry vision as he opened the drawer and tucked the engagement ring inside. “Just tell me how it happened, Jesse. I want to know what happened to my Isobelle.”

He made me crawl under the covers. “There was a customer. He were unhinged, we could all see it when he walked in. You know how Issy is – I mean, how she – how she _was.”_ Even he choked on the word. “She thought she could help him. He was mumbling to himself and the gun wasn’t even hidden. Katie and I tried to hold her back, but she got that look on her face and told us to let her handle it. She walked over to him and asked if he need any help. It all happened so fast, Liam, I – I really can’t tell you what happened, but the next thing I knew, he’d pushed her and she was on the ground. I was so scared, Katie’d already run for the phone and was calling the police, but Issy said something, I never heard what, but then he just… he did it.”

I didn’t have to ask what. The police at the hospital had told me that much. “Fatal gunshot wound to the head. Death was immediate, sir.” That never really made me feel any better.

Jesse saw that I was finally being affected by drowsiness. “Go to sleep, Liam, but drink this first.” He held the glass out to me.

When I woke up ten hours later, she was still gone and I was alone.

 

Issy was staring at me; her mouth opened slightly, her breath puffing icily over my bare shoulder. “I remember it now. God, it was terrible.”

“It was terrible for me too. I had to suffer through all of it: the planning, the funeral, the condolences, and everything. And every time I went back to the Laundromat, which I didn’t do until three weeks had passed, every time I could feel the spot where you’d died. In the front corner of the store, there’s a spot on the tile floor that they cover up now because they couldn’t get your blood stain out of it and they couldn’t afford a new floor.”

 She reached out a hand, tracing shapes onto my chest. “What happened to Jesse? And Katie?”

I shrugged, “I think I heard that Jesse’s moved away, but last I heard from him, which was at your funeral a few days later, he was going to see a therapist. I think Katie went into rehab. Seeing you get shot in front of her really messed her up.” I rubbed my fingers over the back of Is’s hand that rested on my stomach.

 “I’m sorry, Liam. None of that is your fault, you realize that, right? There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it. It was completely my fault. I’m stupid. It’s my fault that I died, not yours.” Her hands ran coolly over my bare skin. “I love you, Liam. Go to sleep, I’ll be here in the morning.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Diary,

This used to be my favorite part of the year. Winter, when the air was cold, each and every breath is a cloud of mist made visible. I was never one for smoking, but the sight of my breath hanging in the air in front of me was always satisfactory.

I would no longer be able to do that when the air grew cold. I couldn’t feel the chill either. According to Liam, I instilled it. Dropping the temperature a few degrees any time that I was within a three foot radius of someone. Sometimes I would see his breath, even when I knew it was a warm day. He gets covered in goosebumps and I feel like shit because he’s wasting his life away sitting here with the ghost of his dead girlfriend, unable to _really_ touch me, only able to shiver at my presence.

Even worse, I feel like I’m starting to make the boys think that he’s going crazy. More than once Harry’s nearly caught him talking to me, and I overheard the younger boy telling the other three about one specific encounter where Liam had been talking to me, luckily, about his day. He managed to halfway convince Harry that he was just talking to me, kind of like praying.

 I’ve noticed that sometimes they act different around Liam and that hurts. It’s all my fault.

 

Dear Diary,

So I was talking to Liam about how Harry is always the one who catches him talking to me. He agrees that the guys are treating him differently because Harry’s fed them stories about Liam losing his mind. “But I don’t know how to persuade him otherwise.” Liam was in his hotel room, reclining on his bed while I sat beside him.

“I suppose, I could always, you know, start appearing to him too. And then he’ll either know that you’re not crazy or start thinking that he is too.” I meant it as a joke originally, but a few hours later when Liam woke up, I’d had time to think about it and it was kind of a very real possibility.

“But, you’re mine.” Liam’s fingers charged over my skin, my lips tingling as the sparks transferred between us. “I don’t want to share you.”

I shook my head, my hair falling lightly over my shoulder. “You won’t be sharing me, I’ll still be yours. All I have to do is the same thing I did for you. The only sharing is that he’ll know that I’m still existing and you’re not insane. It’s not like I have to kiss him or anything.”

After a few moments, Liam agreed to it and we began to plan how it’ll happen.

 

Dear Diary,

Today’s the day that we do it. In a few hours, Liam’s going to bring Harry back here, to his hotel room, and then I’ll appear. Hopefully he won’t freak out to much.

Dear Diary,

It could’ve gone worse, that’s for sure. Harry’s seen me, but he fainted, and now he’s laying on Liam’s bed still unconscious.

 

Dear Diary,

Once Harry woke up, Liam made sure that he was reasonably calm and could remember me appearing to him. When he said he did, although he was still slightly confused, I appeared again. He did nearly the same as Liam did when I first showed up to him. Harry scrambled to get away from me, swore, and blinked a lot as if I was just a strange speck of dust on his eye.

“Harry! Harry!”  Liam shook him until he focused on him. “It’s really her. It’s Issy. She’s a ghost and I’ve really been talking to her these past times that you’ve spotted me talking to myself.”

Harry shook his head, his eyes still glued to me. “You’ve drugged me, Liam, that’s the only explanation. That can’t be her. She died, we all went to her funeral. Ghosts aren’t real; it can’t be really her.” The cold air puffing in front of his mouth begged to differ.

I reached out my hand to him and Liam grabbed Harry’s reaching it forward to brush against mine. At this stage I couldn’t speak to him and I was still barely tangible to him. When our fingers made contact, I felt myself being pulled back through a thin veil, the air around me warming slightly.

“Harry, it’s me.” His throat bobbed up and down and he glanced over to Liam again, receiving a confirmation nod. “I’m me. You’ve got to stop telling the other boys that Liam’s crazy. Because if he is then you must be as well.”

He shivered, his hand still wrapped in my wavering one. “Or you’ve drugged me. That possibility is still on the table.”

Liam shoved at his youngest bandmate’s shoulder. “Would I ever drug you? Would I ever drug anyone, Harry? And even if I did, why would you hallucinate this of all things?”

They stared at each other for a moment and then Harry nodded, his hair falling into his face as he did so. “Alright, I believe you, but are you meaning to tell me that you’re in a relationship with a ghost, Liam? Do you realize how strange that sounds?”

“He’s still in a relationship with me, Harry. It’s no more strange than it was when I was alive.”

Silence fell for a second as we all realized that yes, it was a bit more odd than when I’d been living. Then Harry wrinkled his nose. “Do you mean that you two still have sex? How does that work?”

Liam growled and pushed Harry over, climbing on top of him and playfully punching his shoulders. Harry play fought in return, slapping at Liam’s sides, and occasionally tapping him lightly on the bum. It fell into them rolling around on the hotel room’s floor, tickling each other’s sides and giggling like little boys. When they were both crying tears of laughter, they stopped and rolled onto their backs, looking up at where I was still standing.

“So you’re still halfway alive, Isobelle. What am I supposed to do with that information?” Harry cocked an eyebrow at me and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Tell the lads that Li’s not lost his mind? Keep them from pushing him into new relationships? Does your family know that you’re a ghost?” He tilted his head to the side.

“They don’t know and I don’t want them to know. You can do whatever you want with this information. Just don’t sell me to science because I won’t be able to go with them.” That last statement piqued his curiosity and Harry ended up staying the night in the hotel room with us, listening to myself and Liam explaining to him our whole understanding of this ghost thing.

 

Dear Diary,

Harry won’t leave us alone now. He’s like a puppy only no amount of treats will get him to leave us alone.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a tough job, but someone had to do it. And Harry was really good at it.

Issy had decided that it should be Harry’s job to deflect the questions that came towards me about her, about the rumors that I was going crazy, about when I would find someone new. Had I not had her waiting invisibly for me back on the bus or in my room, I never would’ve been able to live through the torrent of questions.

It hadn’t been all that long since my long-term girlfriend had been brutally shot to death, one bullet to the brain and - poof! - she was a goner. I wouldn’t be moving on any time soon, and I certainly didn’t want to talk about her to some nosy reporter whose kind smile was only a façade for the hungry piranha looking to take a juicy bite out of my life. Each time someone asked anything in relation to Issy or moving on, I would turn to Harry, who was always sat next to me in interviews. His arm would drop around my shoulder and the other boys would lean closer to me, touching me lightly on my shoulder or elbow or knee.

Usually it would be Harry that would tell the interviewer that I wasn’t ready for questions like that and it was incredibly rude to even mention the topic. The interviews usually ended soon after that and I was left alone for another few minutes to “pull yourself together” as Lou usually said as she pat me on the back and walked away.

Harry and I grew closer over the first few weeks of tour, mostly because after he first saw Is, he never left us alone again. He was almost constantly cuddled around me when we were with the other boys, claiming that he was comforting me. If it was just us, Issy would make herself visible to us and it would be just like it used to when I would walk into a room to find her and Harry goofing off. Back before the accident, they’d been rather close, but never as close as he made them now.

 

It was early winter and usually we had this time off of touring, but for some reason we’d decided to start tour at the inception of winter. It almost made things easier. Things like being around Is. She turned everything around her freezing cold, so since it was already quite frigid outside, it wasn’t much different when she was around.

Harry and I snuck out to a snow-covered spot behind a venue, and we brought Issy with us to watch the snowball fight we planned on having. As soon as it started, I sort of forgot about her hovering in the shadows behind one of the buses to my left. He and I were laughing and throwing snowballs at each other, ducking, dodging, throwing hard and fast.

Suddenly one flew out of nowhere, making impact on the side of my face, but Harry was directly in front of me. When I heard a tinkling laugh, I looked over to see her shadow standing still hidden, her hand covering her mouth and a disturbance of snow at her feet.

“Did you do that?” She nodded with a wide smile. “You can move snow?”

To answer my question, she gathered up a ball of snow and lobbed it at Harry.

Lucky for us, the fans couldn’t see the exact spot where we were, and therefore they couldn’t see that the third participant in this war seemed to be completely invisible.  There would’ve been some wild rumors had they seen that.

 

There was one stop we made where the hotel had a hot tub on the balcony, tall walls blocking it from view. Harry and Issy were with me (same as always) and even in the heat of the room, Harry and I were shivering because of Is.

“I’m sorry, you guys. It’s not like I mean to do this. I wish I didn’t, but it’s part of being dead, I suppose. I can leave, if you want me to.” She ducked her head to look down at her feet. I noticed for the first time that she was hovering an inch or so above the ground.

“Let’s get in the hot tub. Maybe that’ll warm you up.” Harry suggested, and he reached for her hand, making contact with her icy, semi-tangible hand. I trailed along behind them, shaking my head. I very much doubted that it would work, once I gotten her into the shower with me and while my skin turned a bright shade of red as the burning water stung me, she was barely affected and the air around me remained cold.

I watched skeptically as Harry stripped down to his boxers, hopping into the boiling water of the hot tub on the balcony. “Ow, ow. Yeah, if this doesn’t work then the next step is lava. C’mon, you two, get in here.” He sank into the water up to his shoulders, looking up at us with shining green eyes; in all the years that I’ve known him, I’ve never been able to say no to those eyes.

I rolled my eyes and tugged my shirt over my head, slid my pants down my legs and then stepped in. The water was very warm, bubbling along my skin, and relaxing as I settled down. A sigh escaped my lips when I fully sat down in the water, my knee nudging against Harry’s as I closed my eyes and rolled my head back to the edge. “Babe, climb in. Let’s just see if it works.”

Issy was still hovering outside the tub, her arms folded over her transparent chest. The skin between her brows was pinched. I held my breath as I watched her climb up onto the edge of the bubbling pool, tucking her knees against her chest as if she was scared of the water. Slowly, she stretched out one of her feet, edging the big toe forward.

It had barely touched the surface of the water before she was jerking her foot backwards, knocking herself off balance and toppling over. She floated in the air beside the hot tub, rubbing at the toe. “Ow! Sorry, boys, but I don’t think that’ll work for me. Sorry.”

On the surface of the water, where her toe had barely touched it, there floated a small circle of ice, disintegrating as the heat got to it.  Her mouth popped open in a small ‘o’ and I’m sure Harry and I held the same look on our faces. I glanced down to her foot that had brushed against the boiling water. The tip of her big toe seemed a bit more opaque than the rest of her, but maybe that was just a trick of my imagination.

Harry frowned as the ice disk completely melted away. “So shall we try lava?”

Issy slapped a freezing hand over his mouth. “No, no lava, Styles. It wouldn’t work either and you know it.” Goosebumps rose on his skin and he grappled with her hand to detach it from his lips. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think that if we immersed me in lava I might just disintegrate like that piece of ice just did.”

Harry pouted dejectedly. “Fine, I’ll think of something else, Isobelle, just you wait.”

She disappeared a few moments later and when I called out her name a few times and she didn’t reappear, I turned to Harry.  “I think it might just work if we get her entirely in some warm enough water.” I explained to him what I’d noticed about her toe.

 

Weeks passed by before we had the opportunity again. It was just after we’d ended the European tour and were heading home for a short break before storming the Americas.

Harry’s home had a large swimming pool that had a wide range of temperatures. It could be as near to freezing as possible, or it could be hot enough to become an enormous hot tub. Harry and I had been planning it in secret which was actually a lot harder to do when my girlfriend could literally be sitting in my lap and I’d have no idea because she was invisible and weightless and I was used to the chill.

I lured her to Harry’s house with me and it was only the three of us, a winter sky outside the windows of the indoor pool room, and one massive hot tub, that she believed was an average swimming pool.

It had been since before her death that she’d gone swimming and it had been one of Issy’s favorite pastimes, so I knew that she wouldn’t skip over this opportunity.

Harry was reclining in a floating lounge chair, and he waved when I walked into the room with Is floating along right behind me. I’d already changed into my trunks and I held a tight grip on my ghostly girlfriend’s hand. I toted her over to the side of the pool with me.

It was 3 meters deep all the way around the pool, making it not a very kid friendly environment, but perfect for what Harry and I had planned for Isobelle today.

Harry’s float was a short distance from the edge of the pool in front of us, and from where we stood I could see sweat rolling down the sides of his face, causing his bare skin to stick to the float. The water was hot, probably dangerously warm, but this would work. It had to work.

Is had just opened her mouth to ask something when I wrapped my arms around her, the plasmic squish of her against my body twisted and writhed, and I leapt into the air over the pool.

A hot rush of water wrapped over us and I felt her thrashing around in my arms, so cold that it burned and stung more than the heated water around us. There was a dull thud into the water that I took to be Harry and he helped me by wrapping his arms around both Is and I. She continued to struggle, legs flailing, mouth opening, air bubbles rose off her skin like a carbonated drink. Still, we held her down with us until the last remnants of breath clung tightly in our lungs, and Issy at last went limp in our arms before she vanished, leaving not even the cold sting of her skin behind.

Harry and I burst into the surface at the same time gasping for the cool, pleasant air that filled our lungs. Off to the side of the pool I heard wet, gasping breaths and skin against the slick stone floor.

Is was laying there, limply supporting herself on her elbows, clothes dripping off her less-transparent body. “What – the – hell – was that?” She gasped, turning a furious gaze towards the two of us. “Were you trying to kill me again? Get rid of me once and for all, Liam?” Tears brimmed in her eyes and I began to swim towards her. “No! Stay away from me! I’ll leave if that’s what you wanted. All you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to try and vanquish me!” Her voice was loud and piercing, echoing all around the room and inside my head.

I squeezed my eyes closed until the uncomfortable ringing in my ears subsisided. When I reopened them, she was gone, just a puddle left behind to remember her by.

“I don’t think it worked, Liam.” Harry’s voice sounded extremely deep after the shrill sound of Issy’s fury.

Glaring at him, I splashed a wave of the hot water at him. “Thanks for notifying me, Harry. I’ve got to go.” I swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out. What had I done?

 


	9. Chapter 9

Dear Diary,

What’s the point anymore, right? Liam clearly doesn’t want me. I told him and Harry both a few weeks ago that the hot water wouldn’t work in making me warmer to them. When I touched that hot tub, it felt as if every atom of my being was being burned into oblivion. And now they’ve just tried to drown me in a pool of burning water, submerged me completely and held me under for who knows how long. It was excruciating! Torture like I’ve never before imagined.

If Liam doesn’t want me then I have no reason to remain a ghost here anymore. Let that dark place consume me whole. I don’t care.

 

Dear Diary,

So apparently, I can’t do that. I can’t just decide to stay behind on Earth as this shadow of myself and then change my mind and beg to move on. I went to Candace and she said that it’s a several step process that she’s had to help others through before.

“Usually they want to move on because everyone they know has passed as well and they’re ready to join them, or they’ve completed all their unfinished business. I’ve never heard of a spirit crossing over because they’re angry. Typically the angry spirits are the ones that cross back over to this side of things.” She wasn’t much help, so I left her store and returned to the Laundromat.

Although most of my life from before had returned to me when I found out who I was, I couldn’t remember why I’d liked it here so much. But from what I saw in memories and from what Liam had told me, I’d spent most of my time there even when I wasn’t working because Jesse and Katie had been my best friends.  If I was not at the Laundromat, then I was at the library or Liam’s apartment.

But the library held too many memories of him and I sneaking off into my favorite corner, making out against a bookshelf and hoping not to get caught. There were times when we’d find silly books from any section and bring them back to the corner and read them to each other until tears were streaming down our cheeks from trying not to laugh.

Even worse than the library was Liam’s apartment. Although that’s where my few things were stored, I couldn’t bring myself to return to his place and get them. I’d have nowhere to put them anyway, so I left them there.

That leaves one place: my grave.

So currently, I’m sitting with my back against my own headstone and I’m watching some birds hopping around in the snow. They seem to stay away from where I’m at, so they can probably sense me. Why they stay away, I don’t know. It’s not like I’m going to hurt them, not like I’m going to drown them in a pool of fiery water.

I hope I never see Liam again.

 

Dear Diary,

As I ghost, I can apparently be summoned.

Which let me tell you something about being summoned: it sucks.

I was just sitting at my grave again, tracing the letters of my name, my birthday, my deathday. Then there was a tug behind my navel, a strange tickling sensation that I never really wanted to experience again, and then I felt as if all the air was being sucked out from around me, the world faded and shivered black and white for a second.

When everything refocused and painted itself like a watercolor again, I found myself standing in the middle of Liam’s kitchen.

Loki was standing at my feet, his tail wagging, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, and brown eyes staring up at me. I reached down to scratch behind his ears and he did the dog version of purring.

A sound in front of me, much like the clearing of a throat, caught my attention and I looked up to see Liam, Harry, Louis, Niall, and Zayn were all sitting at the kitchen table. The latter three were gaping at me, shocked to see me standing in front of them. All five of them sat with joined hands around a stack of candles and a few other things that I quickly realized had been stolen from my safe under Liam’s bed.

“Hey! What’s all of this about, then? That was extremely uncomfortable, so whatever you just did, never do it again.” I growled at them. At my feet, Loki crouched down to the ground and lowered his ears, a whine reaching my ears.

Liam jumped to his feet, breaking the circle that their hands had made. “Is, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought that it would help, really. It did help at least a little bit. You were slightly more opaque; you looked a bit solider.” He reached for my hand, his skin burning against my coldness, and I hissed in pain, drawing back from him.

“I think that might’ve been because you burned me, Liam. I’m hurting. All over. That heat felt like I was being torn apart, atom by atom.” Guilt flooded his features, but I looked past him to the rest of the band. “So, did he and Harry tell you about me? I’m guessing by the looks on your faces that you didn’t believe them if they did.” They all three shook their heads, still staring at me with amazement plain on their faces. 

I turned my attention back to Liam. “Never summon me like that again. Just call my name and I’ll probably answer.” He opened his mouth, but before I could tell what word the sound he’d made would turn into, I fled the room, returning back to the cemetery.

 

Dear Diary,

I’m pretty sure that it’s been weeks and still Liam hadn’t tried to contact me again. They’ve probably returned to tour and are somewhere in North America. Every day, my heart still mourns for Liam. I miss his goofy smile, his touch, the warm feel of him against me without the pain of his betrayal ruining it all for me.

I miss him, so sometimes I like to go to his place and curl up on the bed. It still smells like him (and a tiny bit like Loki) and it makes me feel closer to him. I’ve begun exploring it too. Now that I’ve been at this ghost thing for a while, I’ve learned how to touch things and move them, even the things that I wasn’t connected to before my death.

I’ve taken to snooping through Liam’s drawers, through his desktop Mac (although technological devices like that and the TV are some of the hardest objects to move or use), I’ve even looked through the shoebox of old memories that I found hidden in the back of his closet. If he’d have been here I’d have made fun of him for the cheesiness of keeping mementos from our first date and little times after that. What an adorable dork.

 

Dear Diary,

Today I was snooping through the drawers of his bedside table. Among the old candy wrappers, a broken comb, a ripped ticket to a Kanye show, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, I found that blue velvet box in the back of the drawer; it was the same one I saw a few months before, but it was in a different drawer back then.

Now I could touch it, so I reached in and took it, feeling its light, soft weight in my palm as I lifted it out of the cluttered space.

Before when I’d seen it, there had been an idea of what it could be, but I didn’t have the strength to even touch the small box. My hands shook as I carried it with me to sit on the bed; it was so light, but heavy at the same time. I drew in a shuddering breath as soon as I sat down.

Opening the lid was made more difficult due to my shaking hands more so than my weak, ghostly abilities (not that I was weak; I was just growing tired after being this active.) Finally, it snapped open the rest of the way, and I looked down to see…

An empty velvet pad, the slit in the center devoid of a diamond ring or anything. Although, the shadow of it still remained behind.

Liam had planned on marrying me at some point.

Have I mentioned that I miss him?

 

Dear Diary,

I felt something jerk in my stomach and scratch at the inside of my skull today. I think something might be wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

Dear Diary,

I was right about something being wrong.

 

Dear Diary,

I disappeared for a little while and when I reappeared, I was with Liam and the boys. None of them could see me yet. I was too surprised at my destination to make myself visible. I still haven’t made myself visible or come to terms with my location.

I’m at Liam’s bedside.

 

Dear Diary,

I’m not sure how long it’s been what with the whole “time not being always a thing for me anymore”. All I know is that since I was drawn to this hospital bed on the other side of the world, I haven’t left it. Neither has Liam. For the past however long I’ve been here, he’s been unconscious in this bed as the boys and his family hovered around.

Until, at last, all of his family and the boys left the room except for Harry, and I realized he was looking directly at me.

“What happened to him, Harry?” I asked as I took the seat beside the bed, reaching for Liam’s hand, but mine passed straight through it. “Oh my god.” I couldn’t touch him anymore. He was in a coma and I couldn’t touch him anymore. “What happened?”

Harry settled down on the edge of the bed, glumly looking down at my boyfriend, all of the wires and tubes wrapped around him made him look like a strange kind of mummy.

“Everything happened so fast, Is, that’s what you’ve got to understand. We went out to a club after our show, all of us had plenty to drink, and we were a lot tipsy, but we thought Liam was the least drunk of all of us. We hadn’t brought security with us and when it was time to go, he was going to be our driver. It was stupid, incredibly stupid of all five of us, but mostly the four of us who let him be our driver when we could see that he was just as drunk as the rest of us.

“We were halfway back to the hotel, stopped at an intersection. The other car came roaring out of nowhere. Honestly we didn’t see it until it was already barreling into the driver’s side of the car. Like you’ve seen, Lou broke his arm and Niall had to get stitches from where he and Louis banged heads, but Liam – Liam was unconscious by the time that the car stopped spinning. Zayn was the one sitting beside him and when I got out of my daze, he was holding Liam and crying and there was blood on his hands and we couldn’t figure out whose it was until after I called for an ambulance.”

If I could actually cry, I’d be sobbing, but since when do ghosts cry anyways? Instead I ducked my head down, attempting to rest it on Liam’s chest, but I fell straight through it and onto the mattress.

Liam, my love, I need you to wake up.

 

Dear Diary,

It’s been far too long that I’ve been sat in the hospital room. Harry, Louis, Niall, and Zayn have left. Management forced them to continue the tour, to take over Liam’s parts in the songs. They told them to move on like Liam Payne had never been part of One Direction. Or at least that’s what Harry told me before they left.

When the TV’s on in Liam’s room (although he’s in a coma, I don’t understand why the nurse turns it on sometimes), I see stories on the news about things happening out in the world: wars, laws being passed, celebrity births, and celebrity deaths. And every now and then, there will be a short news story about One Direction’s Liam Payne, still in a coma after one month, two months, three. There’s one that I saw about how he was still in a coma and it’s the one year anniversary of when his girlfriend was killed.

I felt sad. I’ve been dead for a year; Liam’s been unconscious for three months.

It’s been far too long. He should be awake by now.

 

Dear Diary,

The news people still tell stories about Liam, although I think people have begun to grow bored in his absence. They tell stories about the band and how it’s just not the same now that one of them is missing (it never was even when one of them was simply too ill) and they’ve begun to lose fans because the shows have lost their excitement.

As soon as the whole tour ends (they still had to travel the rest of North America, down through Central America and South America, South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, Japan, China, Philippines, etc. without Liam), the boys return to the hospital to see their comatose bandmate. They all look as if they haven’t slept in the past three months, like they’ve barely eaten. Harry told me that if Li doesn’t wake up soon, the band is going to break up, their contract will be over.

I’ve heard whispers between the three doctors that watch over Liam. They think that there’s no hope; he won’t wake up, they should start trying to convince Karen and Geoff that it’s time to pull the plug. Those words form a ball in my chest, making it hard for me to keep myself solid.

The boys come back and for just a little while, but when they leave, I’m alone again.

 

Dear Diary,

I’m a ghost.

What I think and what I want have no effect at all on the outcome of the living world.  

Those doctors have worked their magic, enchanted Liam’s parents into doing the “right thing” aka pulling the plug on their son’s life, on the life of the boy I love, on the life of a best friend,  a brother, an idol to millions of people.

My Liam was still in there somewhere. If he wasn’t in there, he’d be here beside me. There’s no possible way that he’d crossed over to the other side and not taken me with him. There’s no way that he was dead. I wanted to scream and shout until his parents and the doctors changed their minds, until the world heard me and knew that Liam Payne was still alive in that body and his girlfriend was sitting right here beside him, even in death, so don’t be saying on your stupid TV shows that he’s gone to join his girlfriend.

I’m right here! He’s nowhere to be found!

 

Dear Diary,

It’s today that they’re ending his life support.

Liam’s parents and sisters, the boys, and a few of Liam’s other friends like Andy and a few others he’s known since childhood, all of them gathered in the tiny room. Everyone was crying, pink-faced and blubbery, holding on to each other like they would all need something – someone  - to ground them once Liam’s life support was ended.

I was sitting beside the bed, in the same position that I’d held for the past –what was it now? Five? – five months.

His sobbing mother now had a real reason to cry, and her face was swollen and wet, tucked into her husband’s shoulder, one hand gripping Liam’s, and one hand in her husband’s. Ruth and Nicola were both shaking, hands gripped white on the back of the chair, taking their last looks at their baby brother who they’d watched over their whole lives.

Niall was absolutely bawling, wrapped tightly in Harry’s arms as the older boy hid his face in Harry’s chest. Harry was quiet but his face was crumpled up, trying not to just sob and release all of his frustration with the world. Zayn had this look of absolute devastation on his face; he wasn’t crying or making a sound, but there was an empty look of desolation, like he’d lost a good portion of his world. Louis was trying to be strong, but his eyes were overflowing with tears and he kept glancing back and forth between Liam in the bed and the wall behind his head.

His other friends were just crying, leaning against the wall or each other, hiccupping and crying and probably silently praying to every god out there that this wouldn’t be the way things had to be.

When the doctor came into the room, clearing a path from the door to the other side of the hospital bed, the room fell silent except for small snuffles and the muffled sound of Karen, still crying into her husband’s shoulder.

I didn’t want to watch the doctor actually perform the action that was ending Liam’s life. Instead, I climbed carefully onto the bed, glad that no one could see me doing this, and I settled down to lay on top of Liam, my head resting on his chest.

It took me a moment to realize, that I wasn’t sinking through him like I’d grown accustomed to over the past few months.

I just lay there, sobbing silent and nonexistent tears, listening for the rise of sound when the crying would pick up, when the heart monitor to the side of the bed would shriek that solid line instead of a heart beat. My fists were balled in Liam’s hospital gown, my face pressed against his chest.

There was a brief pause in time where I felt the world, the universe shift around me.

I looked up, but nothing had changed, everyone was still crying into their hands, Liam was still unconscious on the bed, and the doctor had yet to do whatever it was that would end Liam’s life.

As I looked closer at Liam’s face, his face that had grown pale under these hospital lights over his stay here, his pink lips that were chapped by the too cold and dry air of the hospital, that’s where I saw the change that I’d sensed.

I was hovering over him, my face above his, when the doctor shut off the life support.

Before the flatline, before the sobbing, before he was really dead, Liam’s eyes flew open, a gasp on his lips that, when released, it made my name.

“Isobelle.” His hoarse voice rasped. His dark eyes connected with mine, bright and full of life and for a second I was in bliss. Liam was alive after all. The doctor’s had all been wrong. Liam was awake!

Just as quick as it all happened, that bright lively light faded from his eyes. My name the last breath to leave his lips.

 

Dear Diary,

I’m not alone and I am happy. Liam’s with me again and we can touch, we can hold each other and feel the warmth of each other’s skin. Everything is light and perfect, there’s nothing I would do to change it.

If this is a dream, I never want to wake up. Given my past suffering, I’d say that I’ll never have to.


End file.
